A New Adventure
by CheerUpSleepyJean
Summary: Wallace tells the story of how he met his beloved companion.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Because this fic is Wallace telling a story, the dialogue is in italics, and the narrative includes some of his strange lingo.**

 **Disclaimer: Aardman Studios owns Wallace and Gromit.**

Chapter 1

I've made mistakes.

I don't like being negative—"keep your chin up," that's what me Mum always says—but there's no use prevaricating about the bush. I've had some barmy plans, some bugger ideas, some dotty inventions. Even my best projects often have unexpected—and unpleasant—side effects. I'll give you that.

Well now, it's a bit harsh to call me completely gormless. After all, the scientific process always involves a little trial and error. Still, I'm not afraid to admit it, so I'll say it again: I've made mistakes. But I'm not here to talk about that.

This is the one time I truly got something right.

It was a normal, drizzly day, and I was just driving home from me latest job. Wallace's Click-Clack Sewing Service, I used to call it. Tailoring brought in a pretty steady pay, but it was a mite bit dull, to be honest. Me options were limited back then—it's hard to run a solo operation—but I always managed to think o' something. Just like little buzzing bees, new schemes were already running through me head at that point.

I guess that there were too many ideas in that noggin o' mine that day—me eyes weren't on the road. All of a sudden, I felt an awful "thunk" resonating through the car. I slammed on the brakes as quickly as I could and hopped out, breathing hard.

 _Oh, cheese and crackers!_

Lying on the pavement in a pool of its own blood was a beige-furred puppy.

Finally coming to me senses, me head snapped left and right. No one appeared to be calling after the pooch. I managed to study it more carefully—not an easy task to do without retching—and discerned that it wasn't wearing any sort of collar or identification. It opened its eyes as I stared, me stomach twisting into a knot.

 _Well...I guess you'll just have to come with me, little one._

Gingerly, I scooped up the pup, laid it in the shotgun seat of the car, made a questionable turn, and sped off to the nearest veterinary clinic.

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 _Mr. Wallace?_

I remember feeling reeling and knackered, but I turned to face Ms. Canis, the veterinarian to hear the bad news.

 _We've done all we can, but I'm afraid that your dog is in a bad way. Several of his joints have been dislocated, and there's damage to the brain._

She bowed her head in sympathy.

 _I'm afraid that your best choice now would be to put him down._

I can tell you that, for sure, there was a lump in my throat by that point. The thought o' that poor puppy fading so young, of those innocent navy blue eyes closing forever because of me...the guilt was unbearable.

 _No!_

 _Mr. Wallace?_

 _Er...I mean...if it's alright by you, I'd like to take the pooch home and let my...me brother do the deed. He's an animal doctor as well, and doing it this way give us all a chance to say our goodbyes, so..._

I'll bet me ears were bright red by then—I've never been a good liar.

 _I don't normally do this, but I'll allow it._

Ms. Canis put a hand on my shoulder at that point, bless her heart.

 _I saw your face in the waiting room. You must have been close to the poor dear. You know, Mr. Wallace, my Mum's cat had kittens when I was young. I began to love the runt of the litter, but she died within a few days. I know how hard it is to part with a treasured companion, especially after such a short time._

The veterinarian unlocked the door to the examination room and handed me the pup, curled in a bundle of blankets.

 _Take him home. Tell him you love him before you have to say goodbye._

I can't remember if I thanked her—I was too flustered at that point—but I do know what I said over my shoulder.

 _Don't think of it as an end, but as the beginning of a new adventure._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I put that fragile puppy down on me workable, me confidence was wavering. I had no medical experience whatsoever—still don't! Bollocks, I didn't even have much experience with cybernetics at that point—engineering's always been more me cup o' tea.

But I had to give it a try.

Gently rubbing his head, I anesthetized the pooch. Something hurt inside me when I saw his eyes close—I remember having to reassure meself that he was just asleep before I had then strength to continue.

I won't go into detail about the procedure itself; let's just say that it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Anyway, by the end of it, I had replaced the damaged joints on all four legs and fixed the two front paws. I wound up making them paws prehensile simply because it helped me pretend that they were just another invention, like the hands of the Stich-o-matic. I don't think it's done any harm.

The trickiest part was the brain. I consulted an old medical textbook me mum had left here ages ago, and replaced the damaged areas with synthetic neurons before carefully bolting the skull back together.

I still worry sometimes, but hopefully using a human model of the brain didn't hurt anything.

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After the procedure, I decided to tinker with me bed to calm me nerves. That was back when I had first gotten the house, and I was still modernizing it. I was working on the contraption I use to save time on me morning routine. The bed was being a mite bit tricky—I couldn't get the tension of the pulley correct, making the movement of the bed frame on the hinge too fast and jerky.

 _Maybe if I put another weight at the end of the bed, it would add enough gravitational torque to reduce the positive angular momentum..._

Back then, I was in the habit of blabbering to myself when I was inventing. To be honest, I had always wished to talk to someone about my inventions other than myself. Not someone who would discourage me or correct me; just...some kind of company.

Anyhoo, I was just finishing oiling the hinge when it happened: the pulley snapped. I froze as the bed came crashing down, but at the last second, I felt my arms being pulled out from under the falling object. After the resounding noise had faded, I turned to see a tiny paw on each of my elbows, and a pair of navy blue eyes staring up at me.

For a moment, me blabbering mouth could form no words. Eventually, I found my voice.

 _Lad...I owe you my life._

Removing his paws from me arms, he tilted his head and nodded.

 _And I saved yours._

It seemed that, in my efforts to save the pooch's brain, I managed to increase his intelligence. Me heart swelled with pride. Not only had I helped him, it looked like I had also given the lad better motor skills, the ability to understand human language, and logic.

Images of patent applications drifted into me skull, but I immediately derailed that train of thought. Obtaining recognition for me achievement would likely require cutting that fragile little head open once more, and who knows what would happen to the pup? No, me attachment to him alone was what had inspired the invention, and having him alive would be payment enough.

With me usual wide grin back on me face, I threw an arm around his...shoulders...back...scapula?

 _Well lad, I suppose we're square with one another. My inventions saved you, you saved me from my invention..._

He rolled his eyes; I cleared my throat and moved on.

 _Anyway, it seems like you've got a good dose of common sense—me mum always said I could use some. Do you think, er, that you'd like to stay? With me?_

The pup's big eyes widened. Then, he gave a—dare I say excited?—little nod.

 _Cracking! We'll make a good team, you and me. Let's see...if you're going to be me partner, you'll need a name._

Gently, I scooped him up. The pooch snuggled in me arms, we headed for the kitchen for cheese and crackers.

 _I'll call you Gromit._


End file.
